16 ßAß Y'S FIRST STéP I RECEIVED a call this morning from a Mr. Aiken. He came to my apartment unheralded-a tall gray fellow, up from the warm street into my littered room. "I am Mr. Aiken," he said, as he gained the top step. That was how I knew he was Mr. Aiken. "Come in, Mr. Aiken," I replied. N ow before I go on to report this friendly call, I should tell the reader -whose interest in the whole matter I can merely assume, just as Mr. Aiken assumed that I was interested in life insurance-that just prior to the un- expected arrival of Mr. Aiken, I had released Baby, my small singing bird, from his cage for his morning con- stitutional. Baby was in the bathroom, going over the plumbing, when my guest entered. Mr. Aiken sat down in the green chair and put his briefcase on the floor. I sat down on the piano stool. "I understand," said Mr. Aiken, quietly, "that you are a writer. Is that correct?" " N " 1 O d 0, sal. "Well," continued Mr. Aiken, "that , k d O ff " won t ma e any ] erence. "To whom?" "Well, I mean, that although my wor k is mostly among literary people ---because, I suppose, I feel a sort of kinshi p for them although not making any pretensions of writing myself- although, as I say, my work is mostly among artists and writers, my pro- fession-for life insurance is a pro- fession-extends of course to all classes. " I offered Mr. Aiken a cigarette, which he didn't take. " I " h " h suppose, e went on, t at to you I am just another life-insurance " agent 0 "No. You are the first." "Ah," said Mr. Aiken, straighten- ing a little in his chair, "that is interest- ing. In that event" (here Mr. Aiken leaned over toward his brief- case), "in that event I would like to h " s ow you . . . AS Mr. Aiken raised his briefcase, Il.. Baby, tiring of the bathroom, came winging in to join us. In his flight he passed just east of Mr. .L iken's face, side-slipping as he came. Mr. Aiken ducked. "Ah," he said, amiably, "a bird!" "A. bird," I replied, watching Baby aligh t on the piano, next to a photo- JUNE 2, 2, , I' 2. , Again that low, watery trill float- ed out across the room, this time rising and swell- ing in to a rich sylvan hymn of praise for the day, continuing with a few dis- agreeable urban crescendoes that Baby has lately developed in an attempt to prostitute his art and show off, the whole song making, in its flow and intensity, such a lively din in the place tha t conversation was unbearable and the thread of Mr. Aiken's discourse was again lost. "He. . . the bird can't get out that open wIndow, can he?" asked Mr. Aiken hopefully, when the song ceased. " He b h ' " I can, ut e won t, re- plied. "Oh. Now, with this yearly rate in the case of an unmarried man- and may I say that a young man must always look ahead to the time when he is not insurable, as well as to the time when he gets marrIed and has beneficiaries . . ." Surfeited with the view from the window, Baby did three laps around the room, stunting as he went, banking vertically around some imaginary pylons that he has erected for his amusement, and settling finally on his cage. Mr. Aiken watched, appalled at the spectacle. ". . . gets married and has benefici- aries," he continued, a trifle vaguely, " h h " w Y t en . . . Baby, at that moment spying his own shadow on the wall, threw himself upon it viciously, and set up a loud vengeful screaming. ". . . gets married and has bene- ficiaries," Mr. Aiken repeated, louder, "gets married and has beneficiaries. . . why, then . . . Excuse me, does that bird always knock his head against the wall that way?" "Only in the late spring of the year." " As I h say, w en you get mar- O d " rle ... ' , < " r " --- T "j 0 r { <<.![ & '\ ,- ;4;" < ( 4ïf dt graph of a lady whom we both admire. " w 11 " e , now, said Mr. Aiken (Baby hopped to the edge of the piano and clear- ed his throat) , " O f you can see, I you will glance at t his chart, quicker than words can tell, just what my story is. This is made out on the basis of fifty thousand dollars merely for the purpose of . . ." A low, liquid trill, to me a familiar and rather sweet sound, began to bub- ble into the air. Baby was commenc- o Ing. "Ah," said Mr. Aiken, looking up from the chart, "quite a singer!" " Just beginning," I answered. "Well, as I say, this is made out on the basis of . . . Oh, first may I ask whether you are married?" "I am not." "And your age is?" Mr. Aiken raised his voice to make it carry above Baby's. " T ." wenty-nlne. "Well, then, let us say that you de- posit . . ." Mr. Aiken rose slowly and came toward me, with the chart. He bent over slightly, so I could see the paper, whereupon Baby, a little bit incensed that his prelude had been interrupted, hopped down from the pIano onto my guest's shoulder, mis- taking it for just anything at all. Mr. Aiken, taken off his guard, stopped talking, held his pose breath- lessly, and made a thin attempt to smile. " H ' I e . . . er . . . won t . .. mean, it's all right, is it, do you think?" asked Mr. Aiken. "Yes. Just hold perfectly still," I said. "Just don't move, and don't talk." M R. AIKEN oheyed. For about a minute he stood there, bird on shoulder, completely dumb and con- siderably worried. I rose and helped myself to another cigarette. Then I sat down again. "Auhuh ahuh," said Mr. Aiken, and Baby moved on, taking up a position on a low bookshelf near the open win- dow. Mr. Aiken resumed his seat. "Let us say that you will deposit sixteen hundred dollars a year for. . ." TATER that morning, when Mr. L Aiken had gone and I was Just hanging round with nothing much to do, and not covered by insurance, I gave Baby a small helping of the special tonic he is so fond of. -E. B. W.